


Motley memos

by roseymama



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-18 02:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11281515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseymama/pseuds/roseymama
Summary: A collection of drabbles, askbox ficlets, and other very short pieces. Generally fluffly Everlark, typically appearing first on tumblr. Roseymama over there as well.





	1. Siesta

The kids haven’t taken naps at the same time in ages. The older one barely naps at all these days. But this week they’ve been sick. Everyone in the house has had some iteration of this plague, complete with noses that are simultaneously stuffy and running, fevers, chills,and headaches.

Katniss feels a little guilty that she got over it pretty quickly. Usually, when she catches something from the young ones it lingers for weeks. But somehow, both her and Peeta caught the bug and got over it within a couple days. Feeling better and having some hope of immunity makes caring for their poor sick kids less stressful. 

She does not feel guilty that Peeta is home today. He’s still sneezing a lot, and he doesn’t feel comfortable baking for others in his condition, but is otherwise fine. Mighty fine. Just looking at him is making her feel flushed. 

About 5 minutes after Peeta starts doing laundry, Katniss realizes her raised temperature has nothing to do with the family’s recent illness. The way he always washes as much as possible, and therefore does laundry in gym shorts and nothing else has always been attractive. 

There are sheets in the dryer. Perfect.  
The kids never nap at the same time.  
Serendipity. 

“Time to get those sheets on the bed ready for the hamper.” Katniss winks as she grabs Peeta’s shorts and starts tugging him towards their room. 

The kids stay asleep for an hour and a half before stirring. The sheets, shorts, and Katniss’ sweatpants go directly into the next load of laundry.


	2. Surprise

She was the kind of kid who loved surprises. Katniss always marveled at how joyfully her daughter would play hide and seek. Even though the toddler thought standing in the same corner every time was a good hiding spot. She was the kind of kid for whom a jack in the box provided hours of gleeful merriment.

Katniss, on her hunter’s feet was excellent at surprising her daughter. And unexpectedly revealing flowers from behind a back was a common occurrence. Peeta would participate with little items from the bakery or tiny paintings and drawings. They both loved the little “Oh!” their daughter would gift them with when they presented something surprising.  
They had discussed the baby for weeks. But he came so quickly and suddenly. One night, they all went to bed unawares, and by the next morning there was an entirely new person in their family.

As Peeta opened the door to begin the introductions, Katniss steeled herself. It isn’t every day someone just appears and comes to live in your house. She and Peeta decided to present her brother as a a very special surprise. She just wasn’t sure the girl was ready for a surprise of this magnitude.


	3. One Single Flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally submitted for a District 12 drabble, prompt "fire".

Katniss has spent countless hours thinking about fire. Looking at fire. Being on fire. But this tiny, solitary flame captivated her in a way no other could. A beacon of light pulsing with a blissful hope for more.

Glancing at Peeta, Katniss sees the light’s reflection in his eyes. She sees a reflection of her own hopes and sense of accomplishment. This singular flame represents so much for them. To them.

It took a lot of work to be here in this moment with this flame. Both of them had to grow so much. Individually, and together. Fears were faced. Joys shared. Once in a lifetime experiences. Reassuring rituals.

So much living has lead to this moment. This ritual.

With tears in her eyes, Katniss starts singing the song. Peeta sports a strained smile with the effort to sing, and walk, and carry the cake closer to the table all at the same time.

They both burst into laughter when the candle sputters out at the gust of energy directed its way.

The little flame cannot persevere in the face of the joy it represents.

Their baby girl is turning 1.


	4. A Victor's Baby Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A District 12 drabble.

I thought I was as ready as I could be. I read more than one book about labor and delivery. I knew all about the pain medications I didn’t want. Various strategies for dealing with the pain naturally. What positions would bring the baby into the world faster. What to do if labor stalled. How to stay focused yet comfortable during a long labor. How the baby will be cleaned and briefly examined after birth. I wrote up a birth plan.

But I guess I wasn’t prepared enough. In all my focus on how to deal with the inevitable and frequently discussed pain of childbirth I failed to recognize that perhaps a Hunger Games Victor might have a different interpretation when using the word. I have felt searing burns, broken bones, emotional trauma. Even though immediate pain is nearly intolerable to me, my will to survive can carry me through. Life threatening injuries can be overcome. Childbirth is more than pain in the midst of survival. It’s the pain of bringing life into the world. It has purpose. Meaning. An end goal.

So when I started having contractions I ignored them. They weren’t the 5 minutes apart all the books warn you of, so I didn’t want to psyche myself out. And they were so easy to ignore. A tightness here, a brief uncomfortable moment there. Honestly, the latter stages of pregnancy are so uncomfortable anyway. But the contractions weren’t painful. They started a solid month before the baby was due to arrive anyway. I stopped even checking the clock after a week or so when they only got as close as 20 minutes apart. The books say it’s hard to think about other things and carry on a conversation when labor really starts, so I figured I still had plenty of time. Eventually the contractions would change and I would know labor had begun in earnest.

I was wrong. So very wrong.

Looking back, I should have known something was different when I had contractions in the morning. I had been having them in the afternoons and evening but they would stop before I went to bed. These contractions started up shortly after I woke up. But I still went about my day and stuck to my routine. While talking to some neighbors, I thought two came really close together, but since I wasn’t watching the clock I couldn’t be sure. And I was participating in the conversation just fine, so according to the books, I had nothing to worry about.

The books lied.

I went home to rest and do some pleasure reading. When my eyes started to drop, I decided to lay down on the couch and take a nap. Women in labor cannot possibly rest so thoroughly, right? Wrong. I slept better than I had in weeks. I woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed.

Then a contraction hit. Not just any contraction, but the kind of contraction that makes you stop in your tracks and question if today is the day you will meet your child. And it was.

Everything happened so quickly. I knew to call Peeta. He must have brought the midwife home with him. We all gathered in the downstairs guest room where everything was set up for delivery. I paced the room. Then I decided to get in bed and not get up until I had a new baby. All the while thinking, “When will the pain arrive?” I was getting uncomfortable, but I never mentally catalogued the sensations as pain. Increasing levels of discomfort, for sure, but not outright pain.

Then suddenly the midwife was telling me I could push and my daughter was born screaming into the world. The whole endeavor took less than 2 hours. Nothing near the 24 to 30 hours the books had been warning me to expect. An experience devoid of ripping sensations, searing pains, or a “ring of fire.”

I thought I was prepared. I read all the books. The books didn’t have a section for Victors.

Good thing I have Peeta to help parent with me, or I’d be likely to misinterpret those books too.


	5. Happy Birthday, Mama!

“Happy Birtday you! Happy Birtday you! Happy Birtday!”

“Honey, those aren’t quite the words, but you’re really close to getting the tune. I’m sure Mama will enjoy it when you sing to her.”

Some mornings Katniss would lay in bed and listen to the sounds of her family and wish she could just muster the strength to get up. But not today. Today she felt happy, but knew to stay in bed until she was summoned or otherwise greeted in bed. The loud footsteps of a toddler and the quieter gaits of her husband and big girl told her that everyone was in the kitchen. She could hear the practiced singing and presentation of a gift. The smell from the oven promised cheese buns.

She could already tell today was going to be a good day.

When the kids burst into the room, she feigned sleep. The boy climbed up in the bed and stuck his face right into her nose. The girl indignantly exclaimed, “Make sure she’s awake and don’t scare her!”

Chuckling, Peeta touched her foot under the covers and said in a voice that made it clear he knew she wasn’t really still asleep, “Happy Birthday, love. There’s breakfast and treats on the table. The kids helped with everything.”

Then, as if this was a cue, the children broke into a rousing, if slightly incorrect, rendition of the traditional birthday song.

It was a happy birthday, indeed.


	6. Be your fire when you're cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In memoriam. Inspired by “I Would Die 4 U”. Un-betaed.

“What are we, Peeta?” Katniss looks up with a sudden intensity that knocks the wind out of me.

Working on a happy memory in their book, Katniss had started to wax poetic about Annie and Finnick. How no one could doubt their surety of their love. The day before she had written a page about Cecilia and her family. 

Maybe these family pages are as tough on her as they are for me. I’ve been thinking about how my family is gone but, somehow, in my own fog of loss I’ve almost forgotten that Katniss lost her family too. Sure, her mother is alive, but I think I’ve spoken to Mrs. Everdeen more than her daughter of late. It will be quite some time before the two of them can claim a bond of more than blood.

“Are you asking if we’re family? I’m not sure that’s the best word for us.”

“I know we’re not family Peeta,” she snaps back at me. “That would be… weird. But I’m not your lover. I’m not your friend.”

I’m tempted to blush or take offense at her bluntness. But she’s right. We aren’t lovers. Have never been in the literal sense. And friends seems like an incomplete moniker. Especially since our time back in District 12.

I glance over and I can tell Katniss is beginning to descend an emotional spiral. It’s clearly written on her face that she doesn’t have the words to express how she feels. Doesn’t have the tools to even clearly identify what’s bothering her so much. Not that anyone is really prepared to be a Hunger Games Victor and war hero and convicted presidential assassin and cast aside political symbol.

“We’re something that other people cannot comprehend. I’m fairly sure I don’t even understand us. I would die for you. I know you would die for me. We’re … more than a list of words. And don’t worry, whatever it is we are, it’s forever.”

When Katniss slides her hand into mine I know I’ve said what she needed to hear. I’m completely unprepared for the complete adoration and affection gracing Katniss’ face when I chance a look at her. It steals my breath away. She steals my breath away. Regardless of our past, our current struggles, our inability to truly define what we are to one another, I know that this moment will forever mark my heart.

We don’t need to be defined. I would die for her. But more importantly, I will live for her. She is love in my world. A dove of peace in the most tumultuous times. And we are forever.


End file.
